A Welcomed Invasion
by Mayinga
Summary: A tale of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger and the life they made together. Not compliant with anything after OotP. Marriage Law.
1. Thursday 1:14 am

A Welcomed Invasion

Part 1

Severus Snape hung up his cloak on the coat rack in the hall, the rustle of fabric loud against the muted darkness of night. He took off his boots and strode towards the open door of his bedchamber. As he moved into the room he felt his foot trip over something solid. None of his grace nor his skill could save him as he tumbled to the ground, his head colliding with the wooden post of his bed. That solid object had not been there earlier that morning, of that he was certain.

"Damn woman," he muttered, rubbing at his bumped forehead.

He heard a sleepy sigh and the whisper of sheets from his bed. "Severus?" a feminine voice murmured from the darkness.

"Yes, dear?" he grumbled, putting unnecessary emphasis on the "dear".

"Be careful. I-" a yawn "I left a box of texts by the door."

His wife had become increasingly inconsiderate with where she placed her belongings in his quarters. He remembered that she had been a light presence when they first started living together. She had kept her possessions confined to the drawers and shelves that he had cleared for her, and only her monstrous cat had free reign of the chambers. Then, after a few weeks, Severus noticed that her books had somehow migrated to his shelves, a mug monogrammed with "HJG" had taken up permanent residence on the coffee table and, perhaps most surprisingly, a cut glass decanter full of an amber liquid that smelled pleasantly of alcohol and almonds had appeared in his liquor cabinet. Who would have thought that proper Ms. Granger was fond of intoxicating beverages? But that wasn't the end of the invasion. Now he regularly found her notes in his study, her perfume on what used to be his favorite armchair and strands of her hair in each and every conceivable place.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks. The socks were then tossed onto the floor where they were promptly followed by his shirt and trousers. He raised the edge of the comforter and was about to tuck his feet underneath when he noticed the outline of her legs on his side of the bed. Of course, his wife had already fallen under the Sandman's spell and nothing save for a natural disaster or Severus making a complete fool of himself could wake her from her slumber. He climbed out off the mattress and walked around to the foot of the bed. Wrapping his fingers around Hermione Granger's ankles, he pulled her legs to the other side of the bed. After finally making it to the warmth of the bed covers he drifted into a light sleep.


	2. Thursday 5:27 am

The pitiful meowing of a cat was the first thing Severus heard the next morning, an abominably early, five-thirty morning. He cringed against the sunlight in the room as Hermione opened the curtains. _Curtains?_ was the first thing Severus thought that morning. His bedroom had never before had curtains since it had never before had a window. _Damn woman,_ was the second thing that Severus thought that morning. The loud whirr of the can opener that he had never owned prior to their marriage told him that the cursed feline was getting fed. So, indubitably, Severus would find something partially digested on the rug in his study.

He turned onto his other side so that his back was to the overly cheerful yellow light and valiantly tried to go back to sleep. Alas, it was not meant to be. Hermione had returned to his bedroom and was now opening and loudly closing the drawers of his dresser, apparently searching for something. He reached behind him for her pillow and pushed it against her ear. The scent of that damned lilac perfume drifting from his pillow launched a full-out assault on his sinuses. Giving up on any hope of sleep, Severus crawled out of bed and blindly felt his way to the bathroom.

With his black, not so fluffy bathe robe draped over his body and his hair somewhat less oil, Severus Snape emerged from the bathroom. He sat himself down at the small table that was by the kitchenette that had not existed ten months ago. The sight before him redeemed both the previous night and today's morning. He admired the small white cup sitting on an equally white saucer. Inside the cup he was a tiger-flecked crema blanketing what he knew was a breve shot of espresso. He tossed down the liquid and winced as it burned its way down his throat.

The coffee was the only good thing about his year-long marriage to Hermione Granger. Damn was the thought that went through Severus's mind as he contemplated the wasted twelve months of his life. Today it would finally come to an end. A brief visit to a Ministry office, a lot of paper shuffling and a few feigned tears from his wife at their failure to produce offspring, and it would all be over. He would get his life back. The invasion would cease. There would be no marriage.

"Severus, could you help me with my books?" Hermione asked carrying flattened cardboard boxes to his study.

"It's called a wand, my soon to be ex-wife," he called across the room, sounding not unlike a petulant pre-schooler. "Which reminds me: I want that bloody window gone by the time you leave."

"It's called a wand, my soon to be dead husband," he heard her shout.

"No need to resort to childishness." Severus now had a pleased look on his face as he got up from the table.

She gave him a scathing look as she stalked into the kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers.

"Have you seen the Spellotape?" she queried kneeling to search through the bottom drawer.

"Top shelf, behind the boxes of pushpins."

"Thank-ow!"

He smiled as she touched the sore spot on her head.

"You arse!" the irate witch yelled. "You did that on purpose!"

"Yes, I purposely left the top drawer open so that you would hit your head against it." Ah, but revenge was sweet, even if unintended.

"I wouldn't put it past you, you…" she paused, considering an adequate insult.

"Idiot," he suggested moving towards her. "Boor," he said towering above her. "Slytherin?" he smirked, his hand dipping into the cabinet to retrieve the needed tape and handing it to her.

She swiped it from his outstretched hand, absolutely seething as she got to her feet, and swept out of the kitchen.

"Oh, darling," he called in as a melodic voice as he could muster. "Do remember our eleven o'clock at the Ministry."


	3. Thursday 4:58 pm

It was over. Dear Merlin, it was over. A year of humiliation and discomfort at the hands of a former student and most recently wife. Over! Severus looked through the window in his bedroom at the grey overcast sky. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he resisted the urge to hum a tune about freedom and raindrops. He swished and flicked his wand causing the window to vanish. The room fell into darkness and then he really smiled. All was right again.

"Severus, have you seen my coat?"

"You're still here?" Severus called out his voice full of disbelief and a hint of disappointment.

"Unless you have a wish to owl me the damn thing, I suggest you help me find it."

"Have you checked the wardrobe in the hall?" Severus strode to the furnishing in question.

"I have, and it wasn't- oh. Thank you." She clutched at the blue pea coat that Severus was holding.

"Anything else you're missing?" he asked, his tone more relaxed than usual.

"No, that's it."

"Well."

"Yes?"

"I guess this is it," Severus held out his hand to her. "It's been grand."

Hermione smirked in response. "That it has." She picked up her shrunk luggage and Apparated out of the room.

The finally alone man flung his body across a nearby armchair. He closed his eyes and savored the sound of silence, the absence of self-conscious chatter, the lack of angry hissing, the delicious echo of absolutely nothing but his own breathing. A goblet of brandy slid into his hand. He toasted his newly regained bachelorhood. The brandy disappeared down his throat in small sips. His empty hand skimmed the fabric of the armchair, his coarse fingertips coming into contact with a long hair. He held the amber intruder in front of his eyes. It curled around his finger. First thing tomorrow, he told himself, I'm banishing all the goddamn hair. He let the strand fall to the floor and stood up. He had a study to reacquaint himself with.


	4. Friday 2:12 pm

Severus woke up with his lap covered by a thick tome. His neck screeched with pain as he lifted it up from the back of the leather chair he was sitting on. The candle he had been reading by had extinguished itself but not before dripping wax all over the top of the desk. He looked over to the clock on the mantle and wondered why Hermione's monster hadn't woken him up yet. A few puzzling moments later, he remembered that the beast was no longer residing in his rooms and neither was its owner. He stretched leisurely as he reveled in that thought. He considered the time, seven o'clock, thanked the gods for no longer being a teacher and decided that it was the perfect time to take a nap.

He woke up in the same chair, with the same leather book covering him. This time, however, his neck yielded more violent protests. He got up from the armchair and drifted to the bookshelf to replace the volume he had used as a blanket. A slightly open cabinet caught his eye. He shut the door. Paused. Then opened the door to study the contents of the cabinet. Parchment, Muggle-styled notebooks, and a large quantity of unopened ink jars were precariously stacked on top of each other. There, at the very bottom, something shone in a smooth stone fashion. Severus reached through the contents and closed his hand over the object and pulled it out.

It was a Pensieve, a lovely polished malachite Pensieve. He set the object down on the desk and examined it. It wasn't his, process of elimination led him to believe that it belonged to his ex-wife. But better make sure, right? He drew his wand from his sleeve and stirred the gelatinous silver substance.

He was no longer in the study but in the room outside the study. It was dark and the fireplace was lit. A few candles were alight around the room. He saw himself sitting on a sofa by the fire. He was smiling. Not smirking or sneering, smiling. He looked at the other end of the sofa. His ex-wife was also smiling as she gestured animatedly about something. He remembered now. They had come back from an Order dinner at the Burrow. The Weasley twins had provided entertainment in the form of fireworks at tea time. In the teacups. Mad-eye Moody had been the first victim. Hermione and Severus had come back after the event and started laughing about the energy with which the aged Auror had leaped out of his chair and hexed the life out of the flowered teacup.

Severus withdrew his wand. He should give the Pensieve back to Hermione. He would, tomorrow.


End file.
